Captain Winters
by Colbster44
Summary: This is the story of Captain Michael Winters, a soldier in the Washington Army, in his journey across the wasteland.
1. Chapter 1

**Captain Winters**

A Fallout Series

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_**Chapter 1:**_

**Welcome to Paradise Falls**

It was colder than usual; a nice brisk wind chilled my face and moved my short hair around as I stood upon a pile of sandbags, gazing over the next hill. I held a cigarette to my mouth and inhaled deeply, the warm smoke running down my lungs and warming my body from the inside-out. I stood and stared for a long time, smoking away, before flicking the bud into the morning air, and stomping it with my boot. Not like putting it out was necessary, I just enjoyed doing as I had seen in old prewar films. There were no trees to catch fire out here, just sand, dirt, and stone.

After I crushed the bud beneath my heel, I returned my hat to my head, and begun walking toward the distant city I had heard so much about: Paradise Falls. It seemed to be the only topic of conversation among traders and wastelander's for the past 50 miles, and I had nothing better to do, so I decided I would make my way over. I hadn't the slightest clue what to expect. Hell, for all I knew, Paradise Falls could be an untouched prewar city, like we had heard rumors of, over in Nevada, but I doubted it, and once I laid eyes upon the worn out "Big-boy" statue, my doubts did not disappoint.

Sand blew in whirling circles, like small tornado's, around the small, worn out city. I stood maybe 100 yards away from the walls, which were constructed of tin, metal, and just about any other scrap or debris you could imagine. I stood at about 5'8, in a Military Officers Uniform. I was many times mistaken for a member of the Enclave, but have no doubt, I would die before I sided with those sacks of shit. They who claim to be hero's, after entering territory's of innocent civilians and slaughtering hundreds, to eradicate "Savage" lifestyles and restore America to it's classic Glory. I would put 5 bullets in "President Eden's" head before he could tell another radio story about Baseball, and how he would bring it back once the country was under his command. As if that would make the Brotherhood of Steel bend to his will; Baseball. Fucker.

I stood there for a moment, attempting to spot a point of entry from my current location. I would hate to get close, just to find out the area was surrounded with Land-mines and the city was un-enterable. I dropped to one knee and reached around my back for my rifle, swinging it around to my front-side, and looking down the scope. For a moment, the city appeared to be deserted. There was no movement at all, and the sand was beginning to pick up, blocking most of my distant view. I looked above the walls and spotted a guard tower. It looked like it had been moved from a correctional facility, and the guard on top of it certainly fed to that illusion.

He was a shorter man, maybe around 5'5, wearing metal armor, and holding a quite large Sniper Rifle. At first, he was oblivious to my appearance outside his gates, but he noticed soon enough and quickly pointed his large rifle at me from his elevated position. This was no big deal for me; I had guns drawn on me before, and I was quite sure I would have them drawn on me again. I simply stood in place, looking up at him, not moving an inch. The only thing I did was let my rifle sink to my side, and I held it with one hand, pointing the barrel at the ground.

After a brief 30 seconds of him yelling something down to people in the city, another man climbed atop the guard tower, holding a Megaphone in his right hand, and a 9mm pistol in the other. He called out "State your Business Stranger!"

I stood silent for a moment, giving off a mysteriously intimidating factor, for all they saw was a military-man, with a concealed face, standing in what appeared to be the start of a sandstorm. If I were them, I would be highly concerned about this stranger.

"I'm just a Wasteland Wanderer, looking for a place to spend my evening!" I called back over the sound of the whirring sand.

The storm was beginning to pick up; tin walls were rattling and empty Nuka Cola bottles were starting to fall off the city walls.

The man with the megaphone said something to the sniper, then shouted back at me "The Enclave is not welcome here!"

I clenched my fists at that statement; I hated when people mistook me for one of those bastards.

"Well, it's a good thing i'm not Enclave!" I called back.

The two men exchanged words for a moment, then called down to someone "Open the Gates!"

Just then, one of the tin walls made a horrible sound; the sound of metal scraping against metal. I peered through the whirring sand that had now evolved into a full-on sandstorm, trying to see the source of the god-awful sound, and when I saw it, I didn't believe my eyes. These clever people had put an old metro bus on a pulley-system, using it as both a city wall, and a gate.

Someone came walking out towards me once the gate had been fully lifted, and called out, "Get your ass in here before the storm blows you away!"

I didn't hesitate to move quickly, approaching the opening at what could have been a light jog. Once I was in arms reach of the man, he confiscated my rifle.

"You can have this back once we know you can play nice" he said with a hint of disgust in his voice.

I took it they didn't get very many friendly visitors; and I could see why. The city was a shit-hole. It looked like an old shopping plaza, that had been through a Nuclear War and now had a makeshift wall around it, because that's exactly what it was.

"Why the hell is this place the buzz of wasteland conversation?" I asked myself quietly.

The man led me into a retired "Super Duper Mart" where a group of rusty-looking fellows, all armed to the bone, waited for me.

Once we entered the room, the sniper from the guard tower pointed his rifle at me, and held me in his sights. I don't think he was trying to be an asshole; he was just letting me know what was going to happen if I tried anything stupid.

"Take off your mask" said the man who was now in possession of my gun.

I waited about 10 seconds, getting a good look at all of them, letting the suspense linger, then I slowly began to unwrap the cloth that I had swirled around my head. I did so slowly, starting at the top and making my way down, then wrapping the cloth around my right fist. This was a trick I had learned in the army; put your face-wrap on your fighting hand, just in case things get hairy. Once my face was clearly visible to them, I could tell they each began to judge me. I was a good-looking man; short, jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, and a rough beard. I kept myself in shape and got a haircut whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Whats your name?" asked one of the more burly men. He was holding an 8-inch combat knife in his left hand, and he looked like the type of guy who knew how to use it.

"Captain Michael Winters of the Washington Army" I responded. I never grew tired of repeating that sentence, something about it gave off a position of authority that I certainly enjoyed possessing.

Some of the men laughed, and it wasn't the first time I had gotten that sort of response to my title.

"The Washington Army was disbanded years ago. I haven't seen one of you boys since the war." Said the man who had asked me the question.

This moment was always very important; figuring out which side they were on. There were maybe 4 sides to the war, each who would kill a member of the others, without a doubt.

There was the Enclave; the classic America who had come to reclaim their country from the new and corrupt version.

There were the Raiders; Savages who wanted everyone but themselves dead, just so they could loot, pillage, and murder all they wanted. Nobody really expected them to win, they were a joke. Completely unorganized, fighting for all the wrong reasons, and had zero authority. Although they were Maniac's with guns, the bastards caused a serious amount of chaos throughout the war, and were probably the reason for the demise of The Brotherhood of Steel.

The Brotherhood of Steel appeared just before the war, probably because they knew war was coming. They were a military-type group with their own system of government. When they came out of the dark, they were big, armed, and dirty. Nobody knows how they had such great numbers, and how they had achieved that under the radar, but when they came forward, nobody had time to care. War was pending and we didn't have time to worry about them.

Then there was us, The Washington Army. Congress disbanded all branches of the United States Military, and converted them into one major force. With a new title, new uniforms, and brand new kick-ass weapons, we were sure victory was in our hands, but we were wrong.

"Some of us didn't surrender when the bombs started falling." I replied coldly. I was beginning to assume the men were ex-Raiders. All six of them.

"Well Captain," said one of the men in the back, as he began making his way through the small group. "You are more than welcome to stay the night." He now stood before me, a tall brute of a man with what was called a "Super Sledge" slung over his shoulder. "But in the morning, you pack your shit and leave."

"And you are...?" I asked with a hint of disrespect in my voice. I already knew who he was; he was a Raider. The only part of the conversation that confused me so far, is why none of the men had shot me once I stated my occupation, but he cleared that up for me.

"My name is none of your business or concern. You're staying here because we wouldn't feel right tossing you out in that storm, but we are not your friends. You got that?"

It appeared the old Raiders had gone soft, but I didn't mind. Whereas I could use a good gunfight to get my adrenaline pumping, I would be fine waiting out the storm with them. I believed the real reason they didn't kill me, is because they thought some of my boys would show up at their door the next day. However, the truth was, I hadn't seen another member of the Washington Army in months. We were scattered, and none of us could manage to stick together. Too many bad memories.

"Fine with me." I said as I began to unwrap the cloth from my fist. "Just tell me where to stay, and when I can get my gun back."

"You'l stay in the town hall. There should be some spare bedrolls in case the floor isn't good enough for you." He glared at me "And you get your gun back when you leave."

I had to act like I was disappointed, otherwise they would have searched me for a spare, and found my 44' Magnum. I always kept it in a specially made holster, which was located in the right side of my Jacket.

I began to wrap the cloth around my face once again as I stated to the man with my gun, "Lead the way."

He shot a look of suspicion at the leader, before kicking the door open, and walking out into the storm. I followed him without another word, simply leaving the group of Raiders to watch as I walked through the door, disappearing into the blizzard of dirt and sand.

I did my best to follow the man in front of me; you couldn't see more than 5 feet ahead of you in the sandstorm, so I followed his dark outline across what felt like a road, and onto a sidewalk.

It took a minute or two to spot the building, the town hall, as we approached it. It was a large building, and from what I could tell, had a nice prewar look to it. I seemed to enjoy prewar artifacts and buildings, something about them just reminded me of a better time. A peaceful time, unbothered by war and the crumble of civilization. It reminded me of home.

Once we reached the doors to the Town Hall, my guide kicked the door open, and led me inside. I walked through the doors and once again, removed my face-wrap and wrapped it around my knuckles.

"This is the Town Hall" he said loudly, like he was showing a tourist around. "You can sleep upstairs, and I don't want you talking to any of the girls. Jonas would probably kill you, regardless of who you are."

I nodded as I removed my cap, tucking it under my left arm as any officer should. "Any fun activities to keep me occupied until bedtime?" I asked with strong sarcasm in my voice. I intended to be as disrespectful as possible, now that I had come to the conclusion these me were Raiders. I hated them almost as much as I hated the Enclave.

"If you have the caps, I bet Jonas would sell you one of his whores.." He replied flatly. He then gave me a final look of disgust, and walked back outside, into the storm.

I stood thinking to myself for a moment. One particular word in his statement stood out to me. "Sell?" I thought to myself. "What did he mean by sell?" I questioned. Now, I was an adult and I knew what a prostitute was. I had come across at least one in each saloon across the wasteland, but the word Sell meant ownership, and ownership usually pointed to slavery. I had seen some brutal things in my life; Death, war, murder, but slavery was one that sank my heart. The very idea of humanity returning to the animalistic nature of slavery, that had once consumed a majority of the world, made me sick to my stomach.

I walked into the next room cautiously; a room with a very high ceiling, from which a glass chandelier dangled from a 10 foot chain, lighting the entire foyer. I gazed upon the giant marble staircase in the center, coming to the conclusion, that this must have been one of the wealthier sectors of the country before the war, do to the fact, this room alone would cost more caps than I would probably see in a lifetime.

"Welcome to Paradise Falls, Captain." Said a voice that came from behind the stairs.

I quickly turned my head to locate the gentlemen who had spoke to me from nowhere, as he opened a door that had been built into the side of the staircase, and walked out to greet me. He was my size, a young African-American gentleman, who wore a light red nightgown and slippers.

"We were told you would be joining us for the evening. Please make yourself at home." He said with a smile.

I was slightly disturbed by his kindness, for it had been a sharp turn from the attitudes that had been expressed to me since my arrival. It must have shown for he noticed rather quickly and said, "Do not worry Captain, I am not associated with those savages outside. I have no objection to your occupation as a man from the Washington Army."

I stood silent for a moment, before extending my right hand to him "Michael." I said quietly, attempting to figure out whether his generosity was sincere or not. It was hard to tell these days; one minute you have a new best friend, then you wake up to him standing over you, trying to slit your throat.

He took my hand and shook it firmly. "Call me Jonas." He replied.

This agitated me ever so slightly. I was going to have to determine his position with the Raiders over the next 24 hours that I would be staying here, so I would be able to decide whether or not a gunfight was going to be in order.

"I heard some about you from the Raiders." I said as I returned my hand to my side. "They didn't tell me much; they aren't very happy with me staying here."

Jonas looked surprised, but we both knew it was just an attempt to be polite. No shit the Raiders would be pissed off I was staying here. "Please, follow me to your room." He said as he gestured toward the staircase.

I followed him cautiously, observing my surroundings with extreme detail, looking for tripwire, pressure plates, and anything that could lead to my demise. As we walked, Jonas rambled on about the building, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy looking for traps and other Raiders.

We reached the end of the hallway and approached an old wooden door, with what seemed like duct tape covering where the windows used to be. "You will be staying in here, with the girls." He said as he pushed the door open.

The next 10 seconds punched me in the chest harder than I had felt in a very long time. Jonas opened the door with pride, showing me his most prized possessions, shackled to the wall. Where he saw 3 beautiful women, I saw three neglected, used, pain-stuck women, who would take a bullet to the head without a second thought; and it would be the best thing to happen to them in years.

"They really are something aren't they?" He asked with pride as he looked at me. He must have mistook my silence for astonishment, for he began explaining how he had captured one of them from their home. "Cheyenne, the first one on the right," he began, "I snatched her when she was about 9 years old. Some Raiders killed her parents, so I took her and put her in chains. She's my best girl, and her asking price is 1,000 caps."

I stared at this girl, who sat on an old worn-out bed. She was beautiful, and it drew a flame in my heart to see her, a slave, taken from her home at the age of 9, knowing nothing but abuse her whole life.

Jonas noticed my staring "Tell you what, stranger;" he said. "Since you seem to like Cheyenne so much, i'l let you have her for the night. My treat."

"Has anybody tried to buy her yet?" I asked with a chilling tone.

"Nobody can afford her." Replied Jonas. "People can only afford the nightly fee of 25 caps. Some even get the deluxe for 50."

"Whats the deluxe?" I asked, still not looking at him.

"The deluxe is anything you want." He replied. "You aren't allowed to hit any of my girls with the 25 cap experience, but with the deluxe..." he paused as a grin spread across his face. "Anything goes."

Finally I turned and looked him in the eye, an expression on my face that should have given him a clear enough warning to shut the hell up and not say another word. I said to him slowly and with grit in my voice, "You allow people to hit these women for caps?" I asked.

Jonas lost his smile. "Yes I do." He said as he put his hand on his sidearm, which dangled from a belt around his robe. "Do you have a problem with that, Captain?"

I stared into his eyes for what seemed like a very long time, allowing the silence to linger throughout the room, causing the girls to take notice to the conversation, as I decided my next move. I was judging Jonas intensely, attempting to determine his prewar occupation, whether it be a soldier or civilian. I was trying to determine his side; Brotherhood or Raider, and I was trying to decide how quickly he could pull that sidearm out of its holster.

Jonas began to say something, but what it was, we will never know. In a matter of seconds, just as his lips began to move, I had pulled my 44' Magnum from my jacket, pushing the hammer down as I shoved the barrel against his stomach, and let a single bullet fly from the chamber, into his gut, and out his lower back; leaving a nicely sized hole in the door behind him. Jonas stared at me for a moment, with his Jaw dropping lower and lower with each passing second, as he looked down at the bloody mess that used to be his front-side. He lifted a hand to his gut as he stumbled back, knocking the half-open door closed, and falling to a sitting position, where he leaned against the wall, and bled to death.

I didn't even hear the screams of the women in the background. This was a crippling weakness of mine, from which I had discovered in the war. Death fazed me, and once I had shot Jonas, I was oblivious to my surroundings until he bled out, and was no longer staring at me with a fear that knocked the arrogance right out of him. He knew he was dying, and I'm sure his life was flashing before his eyes as I stood over him, watching him go.

It wasn't until I heard the voice of a child that I snapped out of it. I heard the voice of a young girl in the background, over the sound of the panicked women, asking very quietly, "Is he gone now?"

I turned around, to a sight that built rage and sorrow in my heart. When Jonas had opened the door, he did so only half way, blocking my view of most of the room. He is lucky he did, otherwise his death would have been much more painful; for in the corner, was a cage, with 5 young children inside, all shackled to the wall as well.

After a moment of silence, I crossed the room, loosing more and more faith in the human race with each step, as I crouched before the cage, staring the young girl in the eye. "He's gone." I replied quietly. "and it's time for you to go home."

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This is the first of many chapters, as the first fan-fiction I have ever written. This story goes on and on for ages. Hopefully I see some positive reviews, if so, we will see much more of Captain Winters in the future, from what is an incredibly complex and awesome journy I have planned ahead!


	2. Chapter 2

**Captain Winters**

A Fallout Series

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**_Chapter 2_**

**Leaving Paradise**

Keys. I needed the keys for the shackles, and for the cage. I could tell, trying to find them was going to be a complete pain in the ass. None of the slaves had a clue as to where they were, well, the ones that would talk to me, that is. I had already searched Jonas to fine nothing but a bag of caps and a scrap of paper with the word "Libero" scribbled on it.

This word would come to have a large amount of significance in my life, but at the time, it was just something scribbled on an old diner napkin.

"Aren't you going to do something, Mister?" asked one of the kids in the cage. This was a little boy, around ten or eleven years old. He didn't seem to happy with the fact that I had just put every single one of them in danger, and instead of doing something, I was standing around, staring at a slip of blood-stained paper, I had found in the pocket of the man I had just shot.

Most people would come to be surprised with the maturity level of young children such as this boy here. I wasn't shocked when the young man talked to me with authority, because, for one thing, he was absolutely right. I hadn't done a thing to help get these people out of here since I put them all in danger by killing their owner. Sure, I could leave right now; slip into the storm and leave the slaves in this room to be found, their owner dead on the floor, looking just as guilty as I would. They'd be shot, no doubt. Shot or worse, that is.

"I'm going to look for the keys." I said to the room, as I turned my back to them and began making my way down the hall. I had already scanned this part of the building for traps when Jonas had given me the tour, so I was not very worried about it. It wasn't until I reached the top of the staircase that panic punched me directly in the chest; as for the fact that 4 Raiders were standing in the foyer, each of them holding an Assault Rifle with enough ammunition to take down a prewar military convoy.

"Captain..." said one of the Raiders with a nod.

I simply stared at them in fear as I nodded back. If they were here for the girls, which I'm sure they were, then they would have to ask Jonas first. And needless to say, that wasn't going to happen.

"Have you seen Jonas?" Asked one of the particularly scary-looking Raiders. This man was wearing Combat armor; nice, expensive, combat armor. He had a mohawk, but then again, what Raider didn't? They were gruesome savages who had a very basic mind-set. Kill, rape, loot. These were the only three things that ever passed through their heads.

"I thing he is in his sleeping quarters." I said as I pointed downward. "The room under the stairs." This was a mere assumption on my part; I had no idea if thats where he slept, but I crossed my fingers on the hope that these Raiders either didn't know that, or were too stupid to remember whether he had told them otherwise.

"Thank you Captain." said the first Raider. They all looked at me with disgust; the way any Raider would to a member of the Washington Army. Especially one in Uniform.

I would have returned the expression, but I was walking on the wire already with these gentlemen. If I could get them in that room however, it would be a nice spot for an ambush. I had 5 bullets left in my revolver; there were 4 of them. I would hope to get my hands on a decent Assault Rifle if this turned ugly, which it undoubtedly would.

They all began walking around the stairs, and once I was out of their sight, I very quickly made my way down the steps. As I reached to base of the staircase, I could hear the Raiders knocking on Jonas's door.

"Jonas; my friends and I would like to rent some of your girls for the evening." Stated one of them.

As the men knocked on his door, I took a moment to become aware of the foyer I was standing in. The only cover was a couch, a coffee table, and an abnormally large Nuka-Cola dispenser. The couch would be the ideal place to take cover as bullets were flying at me, but it wouldn't take them very long to fill it with holes, and fill me with holes as well for that matter. The same story goes for the coffee table; way to thin and I would have to flip it, in order to use it. It would take too much time.

"Jonas, where the fuck are you?" Barked one of the Raiders as he slammed his fist against the wooden door. "Look, I'm coming inside so cover yourself if you're not decent."

"Shit." I thought to myself as I realized what I was going to have to do. I was about to have to approach the doorway, gun drawn, and open fire on all 4 of them, hoping I didn't miss, and they didn't shoot back before my chamber was empty.

As soon as the Raider opened the door, each of them did exactly as I had predicted; all 4 of them entered the room. What I did not expect, was for Jonas to booby-trap his room each time he left. For as soon as I ran to the doorway, an explosion went off, blasting me backwards into the wall behind me. When I wiped the dirt from my eyes, and looked at what was once Jonas's room, for it now looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood, guts, limbs, and dirt was all that remained past the doorway under the stairs.

"Holy shit." I said as I got to my feet. "Thank you, Jonas."

I was glad Jonas was the paranoid type, otherwise I may have jumped into my last firefight. I would have been able to take on the entire town of Paradise Falls without a doubt in my mind, but at close range, with a revolver, it may have been difficult.

I entered the room, which could now be called a crater, looking for anything that was still intact. I could feel bits and pieces of Raider against the heel of my boot, but I didn't care. It wouldn't be the first time these boots had stepped through Raider guts, and It wouldn't be the last time either.

As I made my way through the debris, I spotted a small lockbox on the ground, beside an obliterated mattress that Jonas had slept on. It was strange, but the mattress appeared to have been in the shape of a heart.

I picked up the small box to find it had not been damaged, except for the small lock that was once on the front of the box; It had been destroyed.

I opened the small metal box and a smile spread across my face. Keys. I pulled the small keyring out of the lockbox and shoved it in my pocket, as I scanned the room for anything else that had survived the explosion. Guns, armor, food; anything that could help me get out of here easier.

Just as I began to make my way across the room, I heard a low voice, in almost a growl, mumble something. I pulled my sidearm out of its holster and aimed at the doorway, waiting for some suspicious Raider to waltz into the room and notice I was standing in the remains of his friends. I waited for another twenty seconds, before I heard the mumbling once again.

"Hello?" I asked lightly. If it was a Raider, barking out a command to state his whereabouts would seem a tad unnatural; but there was no response.

I was walking toward the doorway when I heard it again, only this time, a hand reached from under a dresser and gripped my ankle with a brutal force, causing me to fall forward, onto a small pile of broken glass from an old picture frame, that had been obliterated in the explosion.

I yelled out a curse word or two, before realizing what had just happened. I had dropped my revolver when I fell, and turned to see it had slid across the floor. I sprawled out my arms, attempting to grab the sidearm, with a gripping fist around my ankle.

"Let go of me you piece of-" Just as I began to make good progress across the room, I heard the dresser slide to the side; pieces of burnt wood crumbling as it did.

"Help..." said a quiet and shaken voice from underneath the blackened piece of furniture. I turned to see who had been holding onto me, as the dark face of a mutilated Raider emerged from the shadow of the dresser that had crushed him during the explosion, and had probably protected him from the blast that killed his friends.

"Help me please..." he said as I stared at his right eye, that had been stabbed by a piece of debris. A short stick of wood hung from the bloodied eye-socket, and I felt bad for him.

As he stared at me with his one good eye, my right hand found my revolver, and I held it behind my back as I pulled the hammer down quietly.

"Im sorry." I said lowly, as I raised my gun. It was this moment, the very one I was in right now, that made me loose faith in the human race. I had seen death, suffering, but I had never felt sorry for the enemy before. This man, caught under a dresser after watching an explosion kill 3 of his friends, had come into this building with the intent of abusing enslaved women, and I felt bad for him. He was a slaver, a piece of trash, and a disgrace, but he was human; just like me.

And it was these thoughts that danced around in my mind, as I pulled the cold, steel trigger of my 44. Magnum, and blew part of his head clean off.

With guilt dragging in my chest, and blood running down my cut hand, I placed my gun back in its holster, and left the room.

I walked down the hallway in absolute silence. I was light on my feet, so the only sound that could be heard with each of my footsteps, was the blood from the bottom of my boot sinking into the velvet carpet, leaving a darkened red stain and a foul stench throughout the building.

I entered the room, and I was greeted with a scream of shock. I looked down at my uniform, and understood the panicked reply to my appearance. I was stained, from head to toe, in blood and debris.

I raised a hand to the enslaved woman who had called out in panic, as to reassure her I was okay, and the situation was under control. She seemed to get the gist of what I was trying to say, for she sat back down on her bed quietly.

I crossed the room to the cage where the children were kept. "Listen" I started as I crouched in front of them. "Do you know any possible way out of this place? Maybe somewhere we could sneak out before the storm settles in."

The kids looked at each other for a few moments, as if they were trying to decided whether to trust me or not, before they each nodded to one another, and turned back to face me.

"In the basement of this building, there should be a cellar door that comes up just before the walls." said the young boy whom I had spoken with earlier. The tone in his voice had changed dramatically; as if he now trusted me to help him, instead of put him in more danger, as he had thought before.

Maybe it was the blood on my jacket or the look in my eye, but each of those slaves looked at me differently from that moment forward.

"Alright then, where do we go from there?" I asked as I removed the keyring from my pocket and began to unlock the cage.

"Well, about 25 feet to the right, there's this big gas tank." The kid showed me with his hands how big it was, stretching his arms out as far as the cage would let him.

It was sometimes hard to remember these kids as just kids. Nobody got a childhood in the Capital Wasteland; you had to grow up the second you were born if you ever wanted to survive.

"Keep going" I said with a nod as I finally found the key to unlock the cage.

"Behind the gas tank, there is this cut in the wall. It's just big enough for us to fit through."

"How do you know all this?" I asked as I pulled the cage door open.

Each of the children stepped out of the cage, one by one. It looked like they were getting off a prison bus, and, in a way, they were.

"Sometimes we sneak out at night." he said as he looked at his friends. They smiled about it, I could tell they were proud of that fact.

"Why not run away?" I asked

"If we did, the bad men with guns would come after us." he replied. I could tell he was still worried they would, and I was too. I could handle them if I had my gun and was in a place like this, Paradise Falls, where I would have shelter and ammunition. I would hold up in a building and pick them off one by one; it would be fun. However, out in the open Wasteland, could prove to be difficult if the Raiders ambushed us. Getting out alive would be nothing compared to getting all the slaves out alive as well.

"Don't worry, they won't be coming after us," I reassured him. That moment, I concluded to get these slaves out of Paradise, or die trying. It was my job after all; Defend and fight for the Freedom, of the American People.

"So, what? We just leave, now, in broad daylight, hoping nobody sees us?" Questioned a voice from behind me.

It was not a voice I had heard before, but It was one I would come to know very well in my mere future. "That's the plan." I replied before turning around.

"And if we get caught?" she questioned as I turned.

"Then Il use myself as a distraction while all of you make a break for it." I replied as I saw Cheyenne staring intensely at me. She had not spoken to me throughout the entire time I had been here, and the first time I heard her voice, it was to question my loyalty to the people in the room I was trying to save. Her questioning my idea of leading herself and her friends, during the daylight, directly into a sandstorm, was her way of asking 'Would I stick with them, if things got bad?'

"It's my job to protect you." I said coldly. And i'l be damned if I let you die by the hands of the pieces of shit who brought you here." My words were harsh, cold, and necessary. After I spoke, Cheyenne stood slowly with her hands stuck out in my direction. The shackles dangled from her wrists and she looked me in the eye as she said "Then unshackle me and lead the way."

I had won her trust, and when the other women followed her lead, doing the same as she had, I walked past each of the beds, silently unlocking the shackles on each of their wrists. When I reached Cheyenne, she looked directly into my eyes as I freed her from the chains that bound her to the wall. There was a feeling of relief in her voice, as she said to me "Thank you." and walked through the door and into one of the other rooms through the hallway.

I was puzzled until she left the room in a large coat over her shoulders, instead of the pink nightgown she had been wearing a few moments earlier.

"Supply room." she said. Its where they keep all the winter stuff for the Raiders.

I questioned myself for not checking the other rooms as the two other women also changing into clothes that were more suitable for a heavy sandstorm.

"Anything else you know about this building that could be of use?" I asked.

"All the guns are kept in an old pharmacy at the other end of Paradise Falls" She replied. She knew I was thinking about whereabouts of the armory, and that was her polite way of saying, 'No way in hell, will we ever see those guns if we want to get out alive.'

"Well if that's all, I guess we'd better get going." I said as I began making my way to the hall.

The group stuck behind me as I walked quickly down the darkened hallway. I passed the open door of the supply room and poked my head inside, seeing nothing but a bunch of trench-coats and prewar sweaters. Nothing worth grabbing.

As I made my way down the hall, I opened the second door. I stepped inside for a brief moment, looking at stoves, a fridge, and a sink. This was the kitchen.

"Hang on one second." Said one of the women as she brushed past me in her heavy, dark coat.

I followed her with my eyes as the crossed the room to the stove, flipped the pilot light on, and lit a cigarette with the tiny flame.

"Wait," I started. "Is that a gas stove?" I asked sharply.

"I'm sure it is." She replied as she took deep breath, inhaling all the smoke she could. It looked like she hadn't had a cigarette in a while. I would be sure to keep mine hidden.

I turned to the young boy who had told me about the big gas tank. "Hey, that gas tank you mentioned earlier, does it have a bunch of pipes coming out of it?" I asked.

He thought for a moment then replied "Yeah, I think so. I think it has a pipe for each building but I don't remember if it goes to all of them."

I suddenly got an idea; one that would guarantee our ticket out of here. If there was a pipe for each building, that meant there was a line of gasoline leading into each building. And a line of gas to each building, meant multiple outlets just waiting to burst into an inferno, torching the whole damn town in a matter of minutes.

I opened a cupboard in the kitchen, looking for cloth, paper, or anything that could burn. Then I thought about the supply room, and all those old coats and sweaters.

I ran back into the supply room and grabbed an old prewar baseball sweater. At least i'd be doing the world a favor; one less piece of President Eden's glorious past-time sport, 'Baseball.'

I returned to the kitchen where the slaves were waiting for me. "Lets go." I pointed at the boy "you lead the way, you've done this before."

As soon as I said it, he walked out the door quickly, motioning for us to follow, and we did. All of us, leaving our escape in the hands of a 10 year old. I hoped he wasn't lying about how close the wall was to the cellar door. Any further than a few feet, and we'd be in the open for too long.

He led us down the stairs and through a pair of double-doors to the right. I had come in on the left side of the foyer, so I hadn't checked this part of the building for traps.

"Il lead from here." I said to him just as he opened one of the doors. He looked at me for a minute before I told him "This place could be lined with tripwire. If someone triggers a land mine I want to be the one who takes the blast, not you." I figured speaking to him like an adult would help him understand, and he did. Although, what I didn't realize, was my words had not affected him. It was the doorway he was staring at behind me. The doorway of Jonas's room, and the blood-stained debris scattered around in front of it.

"Sure." he said quietly. "Il just tell you where to go."

I could hear the uncertainty in his voice as I took the lead and walked through the doors.

The next room was dark. There were no lights and the place smelled of whiskey. "What is this room?" I asked as I did my best to see the floor in front of me.

"Its the dark room." Said one of the women. "Its the only part of the building Jonas didn't try to clean up."

"Why's that?" I asked as I stuck my hands out, trying to feel a wall or something to hold onto.

"Besides the reason you can't see a damn thing in here?" She asked with sarcasm lingering in her voice. "Maybe because he couldn't get the smell out." She sniffed the air. "Never changes." she muttered to herself with a disgusted tone in her voice.

I couldn't blame her. This place smelled horrible and was darker than night itself.

"There should be a door directly ahead of you." Said the boy behind me. "Just push it open and there'l be a flight of stairs, taking you down to the basement."

"Is it dark down there too?" I asked as I felt the wooden door against my open palms.

"There should be some light from a crack in the ceiling" he replied.

I ran my hands down the door, feeling for the doorknob. When I found it, I wrapped my fingers around the chilled metal, and turned it slowly. As I did, I pushed the door forward, hard.

The boy helped me push, and within a few seconds, I was standing at the top of a briefly-lit staircase.

"Shall we?" I asked as I began to make my way down the wooden stairs, into the small room with a sand-covered floor.

"Looks like this is one hell of a storm." said Cheyenne as she led the last of the kids into the basement. "So much sand is flying in through that crack, you can hardly see the floor."

I looked around until I spotted the Cellar door, and the staircase leading up to it.

"Is this the spot?" I asked the boy.

He walked up the steps and grabbed the handle on the door, pushing hard until we heard a loud snap, like the sound of wood breaking, and the cellar door flew off in pieces, flooding the room with whirring sand.

"Lets go now! Follow me!" I screamed over to sound of the sandstorm, as I ran up the stairs, past the boy, and into the open. I looked right and left, and when I concluded we were alone, I motioned for the group to follow.

I ran forward until I hit the metal wall, and I waited for the boy to catch up. I couldn't see any of them, so I hoped they were sticking together. The storm had gotten so bad, I didn't realize my coat was being tugged on by the kid until he punched my arm and yelled at the top of his lungs "This way!"

I turned to see the group following close behind, so I followed the boy alongside the wall, until a large, red structure came into sight. The gas tank.

When we reached it, I could see the cut in the wall. If the women got on their hands and knees, they could fit through easily.

The boy grabbed my collar and pulled my ear down to his mouth so I could hear him scream "This is the tank! I'l lead the others to safety, and we'l wait for you outside!"

I grabbed his hand and stuck my Captains hat in it. "You're leading them now! Don't let me down!" I yelled just loud enough for him to hear.

He put it on and nodded. Then the group emerged from the whirring sand, and the boy led them through the hole in the wall. I watched them go, disappearing to the other side of Slavery, leaving this place forever. I thought about what had just happened as I climbed a small ladder on the side of the gas tank, thinking of how their lives would be forever changed by the events that took place in the past few hours.

As I reached the top of the tank, I pulled my lighter from my jacket and removed the baseball sweater. As I lit the fabric, I kicked the lid off the tank, and held the burning cloth over the gas-filled canister. It was my intention to die that day, in that moment, I was ready to drop that burning cloth and end my life in the same explosion that would make Paradise Falls into a crater. I wanted to die with meaning, and if the price to wipe this 'disgrace to humanity' off the planet, was my life, then that was a good enough purpose for me. And as I dropped the fabric, in the few seconds it would take the burning cloth to reach the enormity of gasoline within the canister, a large force took me off of the gas-tank, and pummeled me into the hard earth below.

Before I could turn to see who had just tackled me off the top of the gas tank, someone grabbed me by the collar and dragged me behind an old street blockade, as an explosion went off, louder than anything I had ever heard before.

After the first explosion, about 5 more followed. Each one happened about 10 seconds after the last, and in the whirring sand, explosions were all that I could hear. No screams, no peril, just a loud bang, then silence.

I stood behind the blockade, and peered out into the storm. I could see fire everywhere, but no people, and although I knew they were there, it provided a certain amount of comfort to imagine them not.

A hand ran down my arm and balled up into a fist within my palm. I turned to see Cheyenne standing next to me, and I wrapped my hand around hers. I wanted to thank her for saving my life, but I could tell she didn't want me to. She just stared at the flames, standing next to me. She was free from this place, and no one would ever be captive here again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Captain Winters**

A Fallout Series

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_**Chapter**__**3**_

**The Relay Station**

We had decided to stay close to the wall that night. It wasn't easy for them; the whirring sand feeling like needles against their skin, but they made it. I was used to being in, and surviving in these conditions. It was easy for me to hunker down, and even sleep in a sandstorm, but it wasn't so easy for them. They had lived most of their lives in one room, and although it was a horrible life, it was a _way _of life for them. They would have to adapt to a whole new world now; learn to fight and survive with the help of others, and on their own. Right now all they had to their names were some fur-coats and night gowns. Ultimately; we needed to get supplies.

Our goal was to get the kids to Little Lamplight. Once we made sure they were safe, we would walk to Rivet City and establish the adults within the community aboard the ship. I knew some people who would make sure they were welcomed and given a place to stay, until they could get a job and earn their way. I had lived on Rivet City, before it was Rivet City. In the Washington Army, we took the old carrier from the U.S Navy when they were disbanded, and spread into the Washington Army. When the Super Mutants pushed us out of D.C we took refuge in the ship, with a number of civilians who had aided in the attack. Soon, more and more people started showing up inside the ship, and it became Rivet City.

During the night, I instructed everyone to form a group and huddle together until the storm passed. If they could get some sleep, we may be able to make it to Little Lamplight in just a few days, but I knew nobody was going to sleep tonight. Just me.

Someone shook me awake just as the sun peaked over the hills behind the burnt city that was Paradise Falls.

"Captain, it's morning." Said a soft voice.

Most times, any sound in the mornings hurt my ears. I would have to wake up and move around before I would be able to hear someone talking, otherwise it just annoyed me to no end. However, this voice didn't annoy me. It was soft and gentle, and as my eyes opened, I remembered the reason I was still alive. Cheyenne stood over me and poked my collarbone with her hand as she tried to get me moving. I looked around to see everybody wide awake. Nobody had slept.

I got to my feet and rubbed my eyes. I reached up to dust off my hat, but it wasn't there. Then I remembered giving it to the young man, before I wen't to face my death in the burning furnace of Paradise Falls, but Cheyenne had saved me from that. I almost regretted giving my hat away now.

I called the kid over to me, and I crouched down to his level as I said, "Do you know where Little Lamplight is located?"

He nodded and pointed to a hill, maybe five miles away.

"You're sure?" I asked. I was concerned, due to the fact that this kid had spent most of his life inside one room; how the hell would he know where Little Lamplight was?

"One of the kids from there met us at the wall a while ago. He told us where to go if we ever escaped." Said the boy as he looked at the hill. "He said he would wait in the tower, whatever that mean't"

Now I believed him. It would make sense for someone from Little Lamplight to come down here to spread word of a refugee camp for kids, and if the kid was misinformed, he still sold me.

I turned to the group. "Okay people," I started. "We have a 5 mile hike ahead of us. We can do this in one or two days. After that, we'l go to Rivet City, which will take a few weeks" I hated giving speeches, it just wasn't something I enjoyed. Everybody was staring at me, looking up to me as if I knew what I was doing. I had led a squad in the War, but in the end, not even that was pleasant.

If this was an average group of people, I would have them there that afternoon, but these people were hurt, and most of them had never been this far away from that room in the past 5 years.

I began to walk forward, and they followed. It was not until I began to lead these people into the Capital Wasteland, that I realized I didn't have my Rifle anymore. This troubled me, because I was used to holding a gun while I went about the Wastes. Sure, I had my 44' Magnum, but that was more of an 'Emergency Only' type gun. Nevertheless, I slid it out of its holster, and walked with it at my side. It had been years since I led a group of people, and being a Soldier of the Washington Army, the oath I had taken upon enlistment, made me pledge to protect the Civilians of the remaining country, at all costs, until the day I die.

As we walked through the sand and dirt, I began to look for places we could take cover, in case of an ambush. This was a technique, used to kill time and help prepare for combat at any given moment. I spotted some abandoned vehicles, on an old road, about a quarter-mile ahead. That's where we would take cover. I would put the kids in the cars, put the women on the safest side, take cover behind the front wheel, and make every shot count. Although we would end up going hand-to-hand, because I only had 4 bullets left, and anyone who was willing to perform an ambush, would have around 10, armed people. Chances are, we wouldn't make it out alive, and if we did it would be in chains. We needed guns and armor, and we needed them badly.

By the time I came to the conclusion of a supply run, we had reached the vehicles.

"Stop here!" I yelled to the group, who was trailing slowly behind. I yelled loud enough for the kids in the back to hear me, and pretty quickly, everybody came to a stop.

If there was one easy thing you could get people to do, it was to take a break. The only people I had met who never wanted to; I had met in the Army, and those men were trained ground-warriors. They never stopped moving.

"Why are we stopping?" asked one of the women as she sat down on the asphalt.

"I need to scout ahead; see if I can find supplies." I replied as I looked toward the hill, where the young man had told us about Little Lamplight. I looked for buildings, military camps, or anything that could provide shelter and supplies.

One of the kids, a little girl, climbed up on the hood of the car and looked out over the wasteland. 'What's that?" she asked, pointing to a Radio Tower.

"Well," I started. "That's how people used to talk to each-other before the war. They used radios so they could be far away and still communicate."

She looked puzzled, "No." she said, leaning further over the car and pointing down "What's _that?" _

I followed her finger to the bottom of the Radio Tower. I looked closely, and soon, I saw what she meant. I saw sandbags first, then tin walls, then Raiders.

"Jackpot." I said to myself as I looked at the small camp, that had been constructed at the base of an old Relay Station. At the time, I had not thought about how I was going to keep these people safe while I stormed into a Raider Camp, with 4 bullets, and took on 15 armed men. I presumed there were 15, but I had seen camps with only 5 before.

Cheyenne approached me and said something, but I wasn't paying attention to her. I was planning my assault, and I may have been killed if she hadn't slapped me in the back of the head, and made me pay attention to her in that moment.

"What is it?" I asked as I rubbed my head, not willing to complain about it. It hurt, but I think I wanted to impress her.

"I know you're planning on taking down that camp." She said with a hint of attitude in her voice. Before she could say another word, I already knew what she was about to propose.

"No." I said, cutting her off.

"Oh come on," she pleaded as I tried to ignore her. "Let me help. Before I got locked up at Paradise Falls, and before the Raiders murdered my parents, I was a decent shot with a Rifle.

I stared at her for a second, trying to figure out how long she had been with the slavers at Paradise Falls.

"How long ago did they take you to Paradise Falls?" I asked, trying not to sound like a complete dick.

"We got to paradise around 10 years ago." She replied. "But I was on the road with Jonas for around 5 years before that. He ran his slaving business out of a small apartment back before D.C went to shit. One of the shops in Paradise Falls was actually used as a front for, what they called, Human Trafficking."

I was shocked. This girl had been in captivity for 15 years. Slavery was her life until the day before.

"You can help." I said out of sympathy. I felt like she guilted me into letting her, but I didn't really care at the time. If what she said was true, and she really was a good shot with a rifle at age 9, then I could use her. But 15 years had passed, so technically I was rolling the dice with this one.

We would wait until dark to attack, That would give me time to count their numbers, see if they had any type of routine, and find a weak spot. I already knew what I was going to use Cheyenne for, and I wasn't sure if she was going to like it. She was going to be bait.

"No problem." She said as she heard my idea.

I was surprised to hear, she was so calm about the thought of running out in front of a Raider Camp, possessing a high risk of being filled with bullets.

"You sure?" I asked, checking to see if she had heard me correctly.

"I'm positive." She responded, looking out at the camp. "It's not like I won't have someone watching my back, right?" She asked. I could hear the attempt at humor in her voice, because we both knew, she would be alone out there.

I returned to my spot by the car and looked down at the camp that I had been watching for a few hours. By the time the sun began to set, I had my plan together. I called Cheyenne over to the car. She, and the other women, had been keeping the kids quiet all day. I would be sure to thank them for it when my adrenaline level dropped.

As Cheyenne approached, I instructed her to sit down behind the car door, that I had opened. I reached down and rand my hands through the dirt, until I found a small piece of wood. I picked it up and held it, as I pulled out my lighter and lit it on fire. I let the fire burn on the end of the stick for a few seconds, before dousing it with my fingers. Again, an attempt at impressing her. After it was out, I pressed the charcoaled stick against the rusted, car door, and began to draw. I drew like I had been taught in the Military, squares resembled us, circles resembled the Raiders. It actually looked like a football playbook. I really hate sports.

As I gave her the instructions to run out into the open area, just before the station, she never even blinked. She understood what I was telling her; she understood that one of us slipped up ever-so-slightly, the other would not have a pleasant death. Neither of us would be armed.

Before the assault, I handed my gun to one of the women. "Protect the children." I said with a cold tone. I didn't like leaving my 'Emergency Exit' with someone I couldn't trust, but the bottom line was: the children come first. As I turned around and looked down at the Raider Camp, with Cheyenne standing behind the car, and the group behind me, I remembered sitting in a Bar somewhere, after drifting around the wasteland, drowning myself in whiskey, when hearing about "Paradise Falls" from the bartender. I don't remember if he was talking to me, but I'm damn glad he said it.

I looked at Cheyenne and nodded as the sky grew dark. It was time, but before I could take my position, I felt a tug at my coat. I looked down to see the young man, holding my hat.

"You'l need this." He said.

I took it and put it on, then I patted him on the head, and walked down the hill, toward the Relay Station.

I looked back up at the abandoned car, as I reached the back of the station. I was looking at a 15-foot tall wall, that I was going to have to scale in order to get inside the Raider base.

I looked around and saw a dumpster near the end of the wall. That was the only boost I was going to get, and I was not too excited about it. By this time Cheyenne was running down the road, and would soon be spotted, so I had to go, now.

I climbed on top of the dumpster and reached up, just barely grabbing the top of the wall. I hadn't done a proper pull-up in almost a year, so this should be fun. I grabbed the wall and pulled myself up. I rested my chin on the wall, once my feet were off the dumpster, and dangling in the air. I looked around for something I could grab, and spotted a small table, just a few feet from the edge. I rested my chest on the wall, pushing my feet out, and reached for the table.

The whole base was dark when I heard the gunshot. It riddled the air and filled my body with panic, fearing my plan had failed, and Cheyenne was meeting her Creator right about now. With that in mind, I pulled myself up without an issue, completely forgetting the table and all of my surroundings as I rushed through the base, trying to see where the shot had come from.

The base was empty when I ducked behind the sandbags at the entrance, and peeked over the top, ever so slightly. All I could see, was about 7 Raiders standing around a body, that was sprawled on the floor.

A rage consumed my intentions of handling the capture of the Relay Station quietly, as I stood, and made my way to a set of Lockers I had spotted from the car. I popped one open to find a pair of Chinese Assault Rifles, and enough Ammo Magazines to wipe the enclave off the earth.

I loaded a gun and made my way to the entrance. I could hear some of the raiders laughing, and it did noting more, than piss me off.

"Fuck you!" I called out, getting their attention, as each of them turned to face me, and I opened fire on them. It only took a few seconds to unload an entire clip of ammo, and before they could get a decent shot, I mowed them down.

When the last Raider fell, I didn't hesitate to jam another clip into the gun and approach the pile of bodies, scanning for those who survived. I saw a hand reach out from under 2 bodies, that were covering the wounded man, as he looked up at me, and saw the reason for his situation. Before he could beg for his life, I shot him twice in the face. I looked around at the others, looking for clouds of breath in the night air. I leaned down next to the body of Cheyenne and felt her neck. My fingers moved with the feel of a strong pulse, and her eyes opened. She stood up, smiling.

"That went louder than expected." She said as she looked at my confused face.

"You were shot..." I said, pointing at the pile of dead bodies. "I saw you on the ground."

She shook her head, "None of those Raiders ever fired their guns." She replied. "I heard the shot and hit the ground, I figured you were taking them down from a distance, like we had planned."

"They were laughing..." I said, still trying to understand.

"They figured it was some hunter. They were laughing because I hit the ground at the sound of a single gunshot, like I was the jumpy type."

At the same time, we both came to a realization. I had left my gun with the women to protect the children, which could only mean they were the ones who fired the shot. At the same time, we both bolted toward the hill, where the abandoned car sat. After a strong two minutes of sprinting, we reached the top of the hill, and scaled the old car. When I reached the two women, they were startled by my breathlessness.

"Whats wrong?" Asked the one to whom I gave my gun. She was still holding it as I caught my breath.

"You fired the gun." I said between gasping breaths, as Cheyenne caught up to me.

"I was tryin' to figure out how to use it, and it just went off." She said, looking at it like it was some kind of misbehaving child. "Why?" She asked.

I fell on the ground, relieved. Cheyenne leaned against the car as the caught her breath, looking at where I had drawn our assault plans.

The original plan involved me getting my hands on a rifle once the Raiders were in a group, and take them out from a distance. While they were busy being shot at by me, Cheyenne could slip away. Obviously, things had gone down a different way, but not that it mattered now.

"We better get down there and clean up our mess." Said Cheyenne, looking over at me as I started to stand up.

Some of the kids had been sleeping before we engaged in our firefight with the Raiders. Needless to say, with all that noise, they weren't sleeping now. However, with a proper bed, maybe some real food, and they would be out like a light.

I turned to face Cheyenne and said, "Let's go. You round up the group, I'l go collect the weapons. We'l deal with the bodies later." She started talking to the group as I made my way back down the hill, toward the cluster of dead Raiders. I started to collect their guns, when I noticed a blood-trail. It started at the pile of bodies, and made it's way around, to the side of the station. I followed it, with my loaded gun in hand, and pointed at the ground as I made my way around the corner. A crumpled body lay in a pool of blood near the middle of the wall. I got ready to shoot, when his hands popped up, and I heard him say "Wait wait wait! Please don't shoot me."

He was talking too quickly to be seriously wounded. Maybe his leg was bleeding, but he wasn't dying.

"Please," he pleaded. "Come on man, please don't kill me. I'l help you guys! You can have the camp, I'l even cook for you! I was a chef before the war!"

I stood over him, my gun barrel in his face. He couldn't see me in the dark, so I doubt he knew I was with the Washington Army. I actually thought about letting him live; I would patch him up, let him rest and eat, then give him some supplies, and send him on his way. Easy as that.

I actually thought about it, until he pulled a knife out of his belt. He stabbed at my leg, but before the steel tip could make contact with my skin, I unloaded 3 shots into him. One in his face, two in his chest.

I turned around to see I had attracted quite a crowd. The kids, the women; all watching.

"He pulled a knife." I said to them, hoping they would understand, I hadn't just shot an innocent man. Slowly, one by one, they all turned around and walked back to the front of the Relay Station.

I followed, after collecting the knife off of my friend; the second man I had killed in front of those kids. I really hated myself for it, but I had no choice. He tried to stab me in the leg. I need my leg.

Cheyenne had collected the weapons into a pile, and was standing by the entrance to the makeshift Raider camp. They were waiting for me to tell them what to do, as I turned the corner. I looked at Cheyenne, and without a passing second, began to give instructions.

I told Cheyenne to wrap the weapons in a rug or blanket. We would take them to Rivet City, where I would sell them, and distribute the caps to each of the Women, for them to start a new life there. All of them seemed open to that idea.

I instructed to have the ammo placed inside a nap-sack. I would take the ammo, in-fact, I would probably use it all before the end of our journey.

To the women, I said, "Find some mattress's and some makeshift bedrolls, move them into the main room." I looked at the Relay Station. "We need to be together in case someone attacks us."

Cheyenne approached me and asked, "Where will you be sleeping tonight, Captain?"

"I won't be." I responded, as I picked up one of the Hunting Rifles from the pile, and made my way to the wall; the one I almost killed myself trying to climb. If you stood on the edge of the wall, you could see a perfect view of the distant mountains. Our hill didn't seem too far away now, in-fact, we should be there by noon tomorrow.

I sat on the edge of the wall, holding the Hunting Rifle, breathing in the night air, when I heard someone approach me from the main room.

Cheyenne sat down beside me, and handed me my 44' Magnum. "I found some bullets for it so I took the Liberty of refilling your gun." She said as I took it from her.

"Thanks." I responded as I slid it into my holster.

I looked over at her, to see she was also holding a Hunting Rifle.

"I take it, you won't be sleeping either?" I asked as I reached into my coat and grabbed a cigarette. I held it in my mouth as I reached in my other pocket and grabbed my lighter. I flipped it open, but before I could ignite it, Cheyenne slapped it out of my hand. It flew off the wall and landed in the dirt.

"What the hell was that for?" I asked, looking down at it, as its silver shined in the moonlight.

Cheyenne looked through the scope on her hunting rifle.

"We've got company." She said with a chilling tone.

I looked through my scope and saw about 6, heavily armored men, descending from the hill. They were about a quarter-mile away. I looked harder into my scope, and saw there were only 5 men in armor, and one man in an Officers uniform.

"Who are they?" Asked Cheyenne.

I looked away from my scope and sat in silence for a few seconds. What I said next, I hated with every bone in my body. The one's who listened to their so-called president on the radio. The fake America.

"Enclave."

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I love to hear your reviews! Beleive me, this story dosen't stop anytime soon! If you want some day-to-day updates about Captain Winters, check out the blog!


	4. Chapter 4

**Captain Winters**

A Fallout Series

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_**Chapter**_** 4**

**Enclave Captivity**

I had fought them before, and I would fight them again. They were scattered after the war, but recently they had been fighting harder and with better formation. I could only assume they had established a Headquarters and were training for another assault on DC. That would mean bad news for everybody, including the Washington Army. They would roll in and take the Mall first, it was only logical. However, I doubted they would be successful. The Super Mutants controlled any building that wasn't filled with Ghouls. In-fact, I think the only building within the Mall that was still safe, was the Museum of National History. That place was filled with Ghouls who hadn't lost their minds, but if you wondered into the buildings archives, you could find plenty of those too. The Enclave would have to be pretty damn strong if they wanted to take DC, and I would die fighting if they attacked, even if I was alone while doing it.

"What do we do?" Whispered Cheyenne as the Enclave squad came closer with each passing second.

"You get those kids out of here while I distract them." I ordered while still staring down my scope. "Take the guns, but leave me a few magazines. I'l hold them off until you guys are out of here, then I'l run too." I was lying, and Cheyenne knew it. This was another suicide mission for me, like the one I tried to setup in Paradise Falls.

Cheyenne didn't say a word, she simply got to her feet and ran into the main room. I could hear everybody quietly running about, collecting some spare food they had found, and running out the entrance.

The Enclave were about 100 yards away now, and I knew if I shot the Officer, they would have a difficult time coordinating an attack plan. I'm sure this was a recon squad; they probably heard the shots and came to investigate. What they didn't know, was they were dealing with the only man who hated them more than the brotherhood of steel; me.

I fired the first shot. The blast of my rifle cut the silence of the night in half like a knife through butter, and suddenly bullets were flying everywhere.

I tried to keep my calm as bullets were penetrating the walls around me, missing me by no more than a few inches as I looked down my scope again. I saw a body in the dirt; a heavily armored man who was now leaning against a rock and shooting in my direction. It wasn't the Officer, and he wasn't dead.

I heard commands being called out, as I frantically tried to locate the other squad members with my scope, but it proved to be easier said then done, for they were concealed nicely. They had been trained well, but I was better. I followed the flashes of light from the barrels of their guns, and instead of locating the men themselves, I aimed directly into the center of the flash, and fired. I heard the sound of metal, smashing against the dirt as another soldier had fallen.

I returned my glance to the first man I had shot. He wasn't moving anymore.

"The bigger they are-" I started as I began searching for the other members of the Enclave squad.

Without a passing second, the night became very quiet again. The silence was almost disturbing, and I could only assume they were putting a plan together. I looked over my shoulder, to see the walls behind me had been riddled with bullet-holes.

When I turned back to my rifle, I came eye-to-eye with an Enclave Officer. He had lifted himself up onto the wall, and he seemed overjoyed with the idea of capturing a member of the Washington Army, for he smiled at me, and finished my sentence. "The harder they fall."

The butt of an assault rifle smashed into my forehead and I lost consciousness. I was being captured by the Enclave, and I wasn't even awake to see it happen.

As they dragged my limp body through the dirt, alongside the 2 men I had shot, I looked back to the Relay Station. In the darkness, I could see the faint silhouette of a woman, who was looking down the sights of a Hunting Rifle. For a moment, I was relieved. Due to my faded mental state, in that moment, I assumed she was going to shoot me, therefore eliminating any leverage that belonged to the Enclave, but as I woke, and began to recover my thoughts, I realized I had not trained this woman to do that. In the Washington Army, that is our code; nobody is taken prisoner, ever.

I assumed it was Cheyenne, and I assumed she was trying to see if I was alive or not. I simply closed my eyes and allowed the Enclave to drag me along, for if she saw me moving, she would come after me. I couldn't let anybody die for me, and certainly not any of the people I had saved from Paradise Falls. They deserved a better life, and what would be the point of leaving, if they died trying to save me?

I lost consciousness again, and although I knew I was being dragged a camp, where they would undoubtedly torture me, and eventually kill me, the night air felt good on my bruised face, and everything seemed peaceful. I can't remember if I passed out, or fell asleep. I was calm, and knowing I had saved the slaves from Paradise Falls, I was at peace with the idea of dying. I had served a purpose, and I was ready.

When I awoke, I was in a dark room, tied to a chair. I could see cracks of light around the room, and determined I was in some kind of storage container. The Enclave had been known to use old storage crates to hold Prisoners, ammo, even Deathclaws, who had a chip planted in their brain, causing them to kill anything but Enclave on sight.

I looked around the crate, waiting for an Enclave Officer to enter at any moment and beat me senselessly. I spotted a red light in the upper right-hand corner of the crate, and realized they were watching me with a security camera. This troubled me, 'Why would they watch me from outside the crate?'

I realized why, when I heard a low growl behind me. I was with a Deathclaw, and even worse, I couldn't see it.

"Enjoying yourself?" Asked a voice from an intercom system, that had been programmed in the crate.

I looked at the small red light, and responded, "I haven't had this much fun since the war."

Although the thought of dying didn't exactly scare me, the thought of being torn to shreds by a Deathclaw certainly didn't seem pleasant. I had been tortured during the war, but this was something new. This was mental torture.

"I'm glad to know we could bring some excitement into your life Captain." Responded the voice. This was obviously the Officer, who's two men I had killed. I figured I could at least piss him off before I was torn to shreds.

"There is a Deathclaw, in a cage behind you. Either you tell us what we want to know, or I will personally flip a switch, that opens that cage, and Captain, my Deathclaw does not like fake patriots."

Funny he should call the Washington Army 'Fake Patriots,' when that's exactly what the Enclave are. They think we are protectors of a corrupt system, when in reality, we are protectors of the _real_ system. The Enclave started as a bunch of lower-class jackasses with guns, who wanted a new America. I really hated ever one of them.

"If he hates fake Patriots, what is he doing with the Enclave?" I asked the camera.

I could hear the Officer laughing over the intercom. The cage behind me started to open, but only for a second. I knew what he was doing; he was going to open the cage bit by bit. He wanted to intimidate me, and he was doing a damn good job at it. However; there was no way in hell I was going to entertain him, even in the slightest. I planned to irritate him to a point where he flipped that switch all the way up, and unleashed that monster out of pure hatred for me. I wasn't going to kiss his ass when trying to save my own. Fuck him.

"Captain, I'l make you a deal." He started.

"Fuck your deal." I replied, cutting him off.

"Now Captain, is that any way to talk to your superiors?" He asked. He was now speaking to me like some sort of child, and quite frankly, I didn't appreciate that.

"Superiors?" I asked, chuckling. "Sir, I've dropped pieces of shit that were more superior than you." I replied.

The Cage behind me slid open slowly, then stopped. I could hear the Deathclaw, reaching for me by now. His lengthy arms, with the razor claws could just about grab me. I figured one more good insult, and I would be counted as a nutritious breakfast snack for the hungry bastard.

"My deal for you, Captain..." Started the Enclave Officer. "Just tell me where the new Headquarters for the Washington Army is located, and we'l let you go."

I laughed for a few moments, as if he had just told the joke of the century.

"Is something funny?" Asked the Enclave Officer. His tone had dropped to a serious one, which told me he was on the edge.

I actually enjoyed knowing that even in the face of death, I would be able to break the arrogant mind of the enemy.

"You really think i'm going to tell you?" I asked him, still recovering from my laughing fit. The truth was; we had no Headquarters. We literally had no base of operations whatsoever. Sure, we had a small bar out in the Wasteland, which contained a secret room, where anyone who still wore the uniform, could get a hot meal and a decent bed, but a Headquarters? He was giving us too much credit.

"Captain, I don't appreciate you insulting me like this." Replied the Officer. "You murdered two of my men last night. I would have already shot you, had I not thought I could get some valuable information out of that thick skull of yours."

"Well, it looks like you should have shot me then." I replied.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the chair. In that final moment, where I was ready for those cage doors to swing open, and unleash the mutated creature that would tear me to shreds, I thought of Cheyenne. I'm not exactly sure what happened next, but as I could hear the cage doors start to slide open, a rapid chain of gunshots went off, about 25 yards away from the crate. My eyes shot open, as the cage suddenly stopped sliding open, and the Deathclaw struggled against the cage doors, reaching out for me. Over the intercom I could hear the Officer barking orders, until I heard another chain of shots, and he was silent. I looked around the dark cage, looking for any way out, until the doors of the crate flew open.

I winced from the sudden brightness, as I heard footsteps running through the crate, toward me. Suddenly, 2 people grabbed the chair I was in, and lifted it, running me outside.

I tried to open my eyes as we ran into the hot air of the Capital Wasteland, as bullets whirred by my head with every step they took. Then one of them tripped, and I fell, face-first, into the dirt. The chair broke when I fell, and I easily maneuvered out of the ropes as I re-gained my vision. I looked to my side, to see the 2 men who had grabbed me, were Enclave soldiers. They were not wearing armor, so I could only assume we were on a base, or in a stationary camp.

One of them scrambled to his feet, and was greeted with a bullet to the face. His blood painted the ground behind him, and he fell hard. The other one, grabbed me by the collar, as he pulled _my_ 44' Magnum from his pistol holster, and began firing at the oppressors. At the time, I had no idea who was assaulting the Enclave camp, but I sure as hell wasn't going to make it out of that crate, to die by the hands of the clumsy bastard who was trying to drag me through the dirt.

I pulled the concealed knife I kept hidden in my boot, and stabbed him in the leg. He fell forward, and my gun dropped to the ground as he howled in pain. Before he could do anything about it, I pulled him down onto me, and slammed my knife into his chest. His blood sprayed me down like a hose, soaking my face and neck, but I didn't retract my knife, until I was certain he had stopped twitching.

I rolled him off of me, and slid my knife back in my boot, as I reached out, and grabbed my 44. I popped open the cylinder to see 2 bullets had been fired. I quickly closed it, and jumped to my feet, looking for a spot where I could take cover, when suddenly, the gunfire stopped as a voice screamed out "Hold your fire!"

I looked over in the direction from where the voice had come, to see someone stand from a small trench and look at me. It was Cheyenne.

Cheyenne had brought the entire slave group, including the kids, armed to the teeth, to rescue me. I wasn't entirely surprised that they had come, but I was surprised at their technique. This group of slaves had executed a perfect ambush, better than most military units could ever try to compete with.

I walked toward her as the rest of the slave group stood from the small trench, which surrounded the Enclave camp. I could tell the trench was some sort of drainage system, which had obviously backfired.

Cheyenne jogged over to me, with a Chinese Assault Rifle dangling from a strap around her shoulder.

"How did you find me?" I asked as I wiped the blood from my face.

Before she answered me, she hugged me, and held onto me for a long time. "I thought we'd lost you." She said with a relieved tone in her voice.

"No," I replied. "I'm still here."

"I followed you, I wanted to know if they had killed you last night." She said as she stepped back. "I saw them put you in that crate, and I figured you must still be alive since they didn't put you with the other 2 bodies."

It made sense, but I was still curious how she attacked the base with such precision. I looked around and saw the small control room where the intercom had been. It had practically been cut in half by bullets, and the armed guards outside were crumpled up against the walls.

"Who trained you to execute a plan like that?" I asked with a hint of suspicion.

She looked at me as if I was joking. "I only did all the logical things." She replied, pointing to the trench. "I had everybody laying down in the trenches, and we took out the command post first." She pointed at the building where the Officer had been. "We fired on the small building with the most guards, because I figured that's where the most important people were." She turned to the crate, where I had been held. "Then, when they grabbed you, we took them out and that was it."

I thought about it for a minute, and realized she was right. It was quite simple, anyone with an educated mind could figure that out.

"Thank you." I said as I looked at the group behind her.

I turned around to the body, of the man I had just stabbed, I knelt down and turned him over, checking his ammo belt for grenades. I found 2, and put one of them in my jacket pocket, as I crossed back to the crate. I peered in, and saw the faint outline of the beast, that was so close to ripping me open.

"Sorry buddy." I said sarcastically, as I pulled the pin on a grenade, and rolled it into the cage. I closed the doors on the container, just as the explosion blew a hole in the side of it. The remains of my Deathclaw friend scattered the dirt around the hole, leaving me with the easy assumption, that he had met his demise.

"What was that?" Asked Cheyenne as she walked up to me from the group.

"Deathclaw." I responded as I walked past her. I smiled because I could only imagine her facial expression, thinking of me spending an entire night in a crate with a Deathclaw. I hadn't told her that it was caged, and for the sake of an adventurous mind, I wouldn't.

The group had already started collecting ammunition and weapons off the dead solders. As they did, I crossed to the Command center, and opened the riddled door.

I looked down at the bodies sprawled across the floor. 2 Soldiers and an officer, the one I had tried to shoot last night. He was an older man, in his late fifties I assumed. It looked like he had run this squad since the war, or maybe even before that. The Enclave was rather stingy about accepting newcomers, especially ones as old as this man. For a brief moment, I felt bad for them. Although they had the wrong reasons, they were fighting for what they believed in. Then I remembered they had stuck me in a room with a brutal mutant of the Wasteland, and I didn't feel so bad anymore. The Washington Army was never big on torture; if we captured, we would either kill the subject, or let them go.

I leaned down and reached inside the officers bloodstained shirt, and grabbed his dog-tags. I shoved them in my pocket and collected the weapons among the room. I gave him one last glance before I closed the door, and left the Command Center.

The group was silent as I approached and dropped the guns I had collected, into a pile on the ground. Cheyenne stared at our new arsenal, and asked, "We can't carry all of those across the wasteland. It'l kill us."

I pondered for a few moments, questioning how we could sell the guns. I would leave them, but I was never a fan of giving up a few thousand caps. There was 5,000 caps worth of guns at my feet, so I figured I was going to end up loosing some of that.

I looked at one of the kids, "Do you think they could use these in Little Lamplight?" I asked.

The kid looked at me for a few seconds, before silently nodding.

I looked back to Cheyenne, "We'l take what we can carry, but anything we can't, we'l give to the kids in Little Lamplight. I'm sure they could put them to better use than we could."

Cheyenne nodded as she looked to the group and said, "Everybody grab 2 guns. One to sling over your shoulder, and one to hold."

As she said it, the group slowly made their way forward, and collected the guns. By the time they did, we had about 6 left over, and I grabbed an Assault Rifle, and a Hunting Rifle.

I looked toward the hill where Little Lamplight was located, then I looked at the sun. I could tell it was about 11:00 in the morning, so we could easily make it to the camp by noon.

"Let's move out." I called out to the group, as I began walking toward the hill.

Cheyenne was quick to come to my side as we began to make our way up the dirt incline, and toward the kids refuge.

"I'm glad you made it." She said to me, still looking forward.

I looked over at her as we walked and nodded. I was glad I cam out alive, but I still felt like she should have left me. She put every person in that group at risk, and had a single one of them died for me, I may have ended my term as leader, right then and there. I couldn't live with that; knowing an innocent person had died, trying to save my life, after I had saved theirs. If they were killed, all of this would have been for nothing.

We began to pass empty trailers and campers. We were passing though an old campground, and I looked ahead to see an old prewar sign, that stated 'Welcome to Little Lamplight.'

"We made it." Said Cheyenne, as she jogged past me, getting a better look at the sign.

Some of the kids approached me, and one of them stepped forward. "We can make it from here mister." Said the young man, as he reached his hand out to shake mine.

I took his hand in mine and shook it firmly, and without a word, the pack of them walked past the sign, and approached an old Fire Tower.

I watched as a young boy climbed down the ladder, and opened a door, which led into an old mine shaft. The group of them walked through the doorway, and disappeared into the dark mine.

I turned back to the three women that remained, and looked them up and down. They still were wearing fur coats and slippers, so I figured it was time we found them some proper armor. They were armed now, but in a firefight, some decent leather can save your life; even if you are carrying a rocket-launcher.

"Let's head back down to the Enclave Camp," I started, looking at Cheyenne. "We need to find some armor that isn't marked with the Enclave emblem."

I began to make my way down the hill and they quietly followed. I could only hope to come across some decent clothing for them, otherwise we may not make it to Rivet City.

"How long before we get to the ship?" asked one of the women behind me.

"A few weeks." I replied, not looking back.

I could hear the disappointment in her sigh, and I didn't blame her. A few solid weeks of walking would not sound like much fun to me if I had been stuck in one room for a few years.

"A few weeks and you'l be sleeping in a nice bed, with 3 hot meals per day." I said as I tried to boost her spirits.

Cheyenne grabbed my shoulder firmly as walked through the camp-sight, and whispered, "Do we have to worry about that?" As she pointed toward a camper, about 30 yards away.

I followed her gaze and dropped to my knee, aiming down the sight on my rifle. I adjusted the scope and the camper came into clear vision.

There were three of them that I could see. One had a 'Super Sledge,' dragging along by his side as he walked around. The other was holding a Hunting Rifle, which seemed like a small toy in his hands. He sat on an old log, in front of a campfire as some small critter roasted over the open flame.

The third held an old, prewar Combat Shotgun. I had used one for crowd control before, when I was storming through DC with a squad of men. The point of that gun, was to fire into a crowd of your enemies, and be able to clear your way through them with ease. Basically, it was one of the most destructive weapons I had ever had my hands on.

"What are they?" Asked Cheyenne.

I never took my eyes off the scope, I just quietly replied, "Super Mutants."


End file.
